Radio Static
by BregoBeauty
Summary: Armored  2009  - Officer Jake Eckehart is about to the have the worst day of his life when he's drawn into an armored car heist. Shot and left for dead, Jake's barely clinging to life when his girlfriend stumbles into the same trap. Slightly-AU. Jake/OC.
1. Chapter One

**Radio Static**

**Disclaimer:** Basic plot, some dialogue, etc. belong to James V. Simpson, Nimrod Antal, and others at Screen Gems involved in the production of _Armored_.

**Summary:** "Armored" (2009) – Officer Jake Eckehart is about to the have the worst day of his life when he's drawn into an armored car heist. Shot and left for dead, Jake's barely clinging to life while his worried girlfriend looks for him and stumbles into a trap. Slightly-AU. Jake/OC.

**Chapter One**

He paused, midway through his usual lunch of hot dogs and a Coke, to listen to the alarm ringing in the distance. It sounded like a panic or burglar alarm.

"You hear that, Joe?" Jake Eckehart asked, his head tilted to the side.

"Hear what?"

He stepped away from the stand, listening to the distance. It wasn't a car alarm—it was a different frequency.

"It sounded like an alarm…"

Most of his fellow officers still didn't take him seriously because of his age and relative inexperience. Even more people he encountered on a daily basis looked at him, his crisp uniform, his youthful face, and laughed. The only person who seemed to appreciate and respect his work was his long-time girlfriend.

He headed back to his squad car. Thanks to budget cuts, most of the patrol officers were riding solo and without vests. In Los Angeles, that was the equivalent of walking around with a sign saying "shoot me, I'm a cop" in some sections of town.

Jake didn't mind. It gave him time to think about his future with Moira.

She'd brought up moving into a larger apartment or even a small house. She'd even been dropping hints about marriage. He was in late-twenties, with Moira just two years younger, but some days he felt closer to forty.

Today was one of those days. He'd just worked a double back-to-back and his shift was far from over. He was counting the hours until he could get home to his girl, kick back with a beer or two and some pizza, and rest.

He rolled into an abandoned steel mill about a quarter of a mile away, his eyes and ears open. He reached for the dashboard radio, trying to reach dispatch. Static crackled continuously as he tried to raise them.

It had to be a dead zone. However, he could hear banging, like metal crashing against metal. The mill was abandoned—there was no reason for there to be any banging.

Jake parked the car in front of a warehouse and exited the squad car. He'd check it out, see if there was anything going on, then drive out and call-in to dispatch.

A door clattered and a male voice greeted him. "Hey there."

"Hey!" His hand leapt to his hip and the pistol there. One hand went out reflexively in front of him, a warning to the scruffy stranger to slow down.

"Hey. I'm a good guy. I'm a good guy."

_Be alert, move slow, don't point at anything you don't intend to kill…_

Even when another man came closer, a security guard, Jake kept his hand close to the gun. He wasn't sure he trusted this stranger given all the noise he'd heard.

"Thought I heard a siren," Jake said, watching him carefully. He didn't see any weapons on him, but that meant nothing.

"Siren?" the guy in blue repeated. "No, no sirens here. At least to the best of my knowledge."

"What do they need security at an abandoned building for?"

The security guard fed him a story about insurance companies, liabilities, vagrants, and a dead dog in the warehouse behind him. Jake listened, asking a few questions, but mainly just observing.

"I'll take your word for it."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." He turned toward his car when the siren went off again.

In one smooth motion, he pulled the gun free and turned toward the building.

A blast blew out his eardrums temporarily. Then came the pain in his right lower abdomen. The burning pain and the warmth of his own blood as he hit the dirt.

His gun hit the dirt beside him. He groaned, reaching for it.

Men grabbed his ankles. They were wearing blue uniforms, like the security guard he'd been chatting with moments before.

_I'm gonna die… I'm gonna die and Moira… I'll never get to say good-bye…_

* * *

><p>Across town, Moira Donovan signed out of the office and hung a white coat on a peg. The lab coat had a laminate badge clipped to the front pocket with her picture and "Dr. M. Donovan" written in bold ink. She slipped her bag over her shoulder and glanced at her watch. Jake was still on his lunch break for another half-hour.<p>

With her long dark hair swinging behind her, she waved good-bye to her co-workers. Once outside, Moira dialed his cell.

It rang and rang.

"Jake? It's me…I just got off work. I thought maybe we could meet for lunch… Call me."

She slipped the phone in her bag. Odds were that Jake had already stopped at Joe's stand for hot dogs and left his cell in the cruiser. Sometimes she thought getting a radio might actually give her more face time than the cell phones. Jake never went far from his radio.

Not that she was much different. Her cell phone was her lifeline. Moira was on-call at the psychiatric center she worked at 24/7, much like Jake and the police. If it was a holiday, one or both of them had to go to work.

She climbed into her simple sedan, a black 4-door Suzuki, and started it up.

A few minutes later, she pulled up to the curb by Jake's favorite hot dog stand.

"Hey, Joe," she called cheerfully, walking up to the stand. Since she'd been at the office for paperwork only, she'd dressed down in jeans, sneakers, and a blouse over a tank top. Simple and modest.

"Hey yourself, pretty lady."

"Have you seen Jake today? He's always raving about your cooking."

Joe laughed, leaning on the counter. "He was here about ten minutes ago. Said he heard an alarm and took off. Kid's got hearing like a dog."

"Did you see which direction he went by any chance?"

He pointed down a road. "Down there. You have yourself a good day, Miss Moira. Tell that man of yours he'd better put a ring on that finger soon or I'll have to marry you."

"You're too kind, Joe." She blew him a kiss and returned to her car.

Inside the car, she called his cell again. It rang twice before clicking to an automatic message. "The number you are trying to reach is currently out of range. Please check the number and dial again."

"Out of range?"

Moira's blue eyes swept the landscape as she rolled slowly. There weren't many places in LA without cell service. At least not nearby.

"Hmm, this just doesn't…feel right."

She turned a corner, looking around. There was a gnawing in the pit of her stomach, especially since the phone went unanswered, Joe reported him taking off—not on a call, but on a hunch—and he left behind his half-eaten lunch. Jake didn't usually do that. Not without good reason, plus he knew she only had a few hours of paperwork. They almost always checked in with each other on their lunch breaks.

In the distance, she spotted steelwork. Metal and cinderblock were the two materials that readily interfered with cell phone signals in her experience. Maybe Jake was down there.

Moira slowly turned into the mill, ignore the warning signs on the fence. There were tire tracks ahead of her. Someone had been there.

She flipped open her phone. "No service available" flashed on the screen.

"Okay, Jake, where are you?" she breathed, looking for his squad car.

An alarm shrieked, cutting through the air. Wincing, she slammed on the brakes. It lasted for a few seconds before cutting off abruptly.

She leaned out the window, listening intently.

That's when she heard the crack of a gun.

**Author's Notes:**

I've seen "Armored" several times now (four or five) and just got the Blu-ray and I noticed a lack of fanfic, which is saddening considering that the characters' backstories are very open. That, combined with the lack of female characters, inspired me to write a short little story.

Given that Jake is pretty badly wounded, I wondered what made him hold on so long. Then I thought, what if he's hanging on because of a wife or girlfriend? So I created Moira, a high school friend and college sweetheart.

I knew she wasn't a police officer herself, but she was bright all the same. As her job took shape, I thought about her and Jake. How would she knew he was in trouble? What would she do?

And, voila, Moira took on a life of her own! I didn't want to introduce her and then leave her hanging, so I'm bringing her into the timeline of the movie which is going to affect the third act. I hope you all enjoy this!


	2. Chapter Two

**Radio Static**

**Disclaimer:** Based on plot and characters from _Armored_. I own nothing.

**Chapter Two**

Keeping her head low, Moira drove forward, her heart in her throat. Did Jake fire the shot? Or was he being shot at?

She inched toward the main warehouses, throwing her car in Park when she saw the radio antenna on Jake's car. "Please be okay," she whispered, rifling through her purse. Her cell was still out of range, but she forced it into her pocket all the same.

From the glove box, she retrieved a tiny revolver and holster. Jake thought she should learn how to use a gun, just in case. The tiny pistol wasn't anything special, but it would stop anyone trying to carjack her at close range.

Moira rolled up her jean leg and strapped the gun to her ankle.

She left her keys in the car's ignition with the engine turned off before stepping out. She stayed low to the ground, listening for more shots. Instead, all she heard were male voices, curses, and crashing or banging.

There were also sounds of pain. Someone crying out, not any particular words, just sounds. Gasps and groans.

Moira reached the cruiser. She slipped into the passenger side. Jake's phone sat in a cup holder, untouched. She grabbed the handheld radio receiver and pressed the side. "Dispatch? Dispatch?"

Static. Just static.

She climbed out, frowning. Jake's stuff was in the car, minus his uniform and belt, which meant he didn't go too far.

Walking around the car, she glimpsed the dark stain on the dirt beside drag marks. Right away, she knew it was blood. And seeing it splashed on the side of the car made her heart stop. _Please don't be Jake, don't be Jake…_

Moira looked at the warehouse. She could hear raised voices inside.

Moving quickly, she dashed to the side of the building, listening.

"He heard the siren!" a man shouted.

"What was I supposed to do?" another one replied.

She glanced back at the car, seeing the blood again.

"He was coming inside! Damn it!"

"No, no, no!" followed, softer, pained.

Jake. These guys had Jake.

_This can't be happening…_

* * *

><p>The men dragged him down a flight of metal steps, letting him bang along behind them, step after step. He tried not to scream, but goddamn it, it hurt. His hand was covered with blood, his uniform soaked, and it was still pouring out of the gaping wound.<p>

At the end, they dropped him in the dirt, proceeding to argue amongst themselves. Jake couldn't focus on their words or how many there were. All he could feel was the pain.

There was a pop and a small explosion off to the side. Pink-red flames shot out.

The men ran toward it, cursing.

Jake tried to sit up, knowing if he didn't get help soon, he was dead.

Gravel stirred as another man slid down beside him. In a quick move, the newcomer, also in blue, scooped him up and slung him over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes. Jake didn't complain. He couldn't.

The world was upside down for a few moments before cool metal touched his back.

"Okay, okay, hang on," his savior said, out of breath.

"God. What's happening to me?"

The pain increased, shooting through most of his body.

"You're just going into shock. Okay? All right," the other man said.

He didn't hear it, he was too focused on his blood. He was covered in sticky blood. There was no way that having that much blood on the outside was good for him.

"I need you to stay with me."

"What's happening to me? Where's Moira?"

"You've been shot. What's your name?"

"Jake. I'm Jake. Where's Moira?"

"Okay, Jake." The man moved closer to him, looking at his wound. "I'm going to need to clean this. It's gonna hurt, but I need you to try and stay still."

He nodded. As soon as the liquid hit his skin, he started screaming. He couldn't help it. It burned.

"Okay, okay…here, put pressure." A gauze pad hit his stomach. "Got that?"

"Uh huh… who are you?"

"My name's Ty. I'm sorry that you got mixed up in this. It's my fault…"

"You shot me?"

Jake was breathing heavy, trying to grip his stomach. Blood loss was never a good thing. He remembered that from training. Plus gut shots weren't pretty. Most of the time, people shot in the stomach ended up on a slab after lying in the street in their own blood.

"Nah, man… I jumped the alarm…"

"You brought me here?"

The other man nodded. "These guys killed a man. I tried to get away, but I crashed. They pulled the fuse outta the truck 'cause of the alarm. I was trying to get it goin' again."

"Who are you?"

"Armored truck driver… There's 21 million dollars in this truck. They want to get it. I just blew up their other half out there…"

"The fire?"

"Yeah, I burned it. Now they're gonna try to get in here." He reached for the radio strapped to Jake's waist.

"Officer down, we have an officer down!"

Static filled the truck.

"Is back-up coming?"

"I'm on lunch…my radio's down… It could be over an hour…" Jake said, his breathing ragged. "But, Moira… Moira…"

"Try to stay calm. Who's Moira?"

"My girlfriend… supposed to check in at lunch…"

* * *

><p>She edged closer to the building, trying to peer inside. Gunfire continued, about five shots worth. With each thwack, Moira cringed, imagining the bullet tearing into Jake's flesh. <em>Don't die, please don't die…<em>

A truck drove past her. She rolled, hitting the dirt. It was an armored car with the name 'Eagle Shield' written all over it. Part of her wanted to flag them down, but she stopped. What if these guys had something to do with Jake getting shot? What if someone had hijacked the trucks?

She stayed low and slipped inside the building. The inside of the warehouse wasn't much nicer than the exterior, but it provided her with a better view. One truck lay crumpled in the center. A group of men were below. She counted four.

And no sign of Jake.

* * *

><p>"Jake, I need you to breathe, okay? Breathe. Nice and steady. Can you keep pressure there?" Ty Hackett said, putting his hand over Jake's. "Keep the pressure goin'."<p>

"Moira…"

"Listen, I'm sure she's fine. Right now, I need you stay calm and breathe. Okay? Breathe…"

* * *

><p>Metal continued to bang. She slipped further inside. Two men were standing on the back of the truck, hitting it with a pipe. They wore blue uniforms.<p>

One of the men cried out, stumbling back. He was holding his hand.

Moira took a deep breath and moved forward.

Her sneaker slipped and she crashed on the catwalk. The loud sound caught their attitude. Four sets of eyes found her.

"Someone's here!" a man shouted.

Moira climbed to her feet and ran, no longer caring about silence. She needed to find Jake. Time was running out.

"Go get her!"

She turned a corner, running for the far end of the warehouse. A man came up the stairs in front of her. She paused and changed direction, another man on her heels.

Just when she thought she could reach a stairwell, one of the men tackled her from behind. He grabbed her wrists, forcing them behind her back. "I got her!" he called.

Zip-ties locked her wrists in place. She struggled, trying to pull free.

"Bring her down here," one man said, clearly in charge. He stepped into view, looking a bit scruffy with his facial hair. His uniform read 'Cochrane' on the right breast.

"Let me go! I didn't see anything! Let me go!" Moira cried as she was forced down the stairs toward him.

The man who captured her shoved her to her knees in the dirt. She looked up at the man called Cochrane. "Please… let me go. I was just taking a walk…"

"In an abandoned warehouse?"

"Yeah, it helps me think…"

"I think you're lying." He crouched down at her eye level. "How did you get here?"

"I walked."

"It's a long way." He stood up. "Check for cars," he told another member of the crew, a skinny white man. His hand was bleeding and twitching.

"Where?"

"Outside. She couldn't have come far."

**Author's Notes:**

Moira is very good at finding trouble. I'm think this story's about half-way done—I'm shooting for five chapters total—and I'm almost done writing chapter three. Updates should be pretty quick.


	3. Chapter Three

**Radio Static**

**Disclaimer: **Sadly, I own nothing.

**Chapter Three**

Jake gasped for air. There was commotion outside the truck with lots of yelling. Could back0up already have arrived? That didn't make sense since his radio was dead.

"Keep breathing, okay?" his rescuer insisted. "I'll take a look."

He nodded, focusing on clearing his mind and breathing in and out. In and out. But he couldn't focus. He couldn't help it. Moira kept popping up in his mind. He had to hang in there for her. He had to keep fighting.

She'd never forgive him if he didn't. They were going to have a life together.

Jake calmed his breathing, keeping Moira in his head. He focused on her, not the pain, not the blood. Just her. He had to get home to her.

And when he did, goddamnit, he was giving her the ring.

"Hey, Jake…what's your girl look like? Mary?" Ty asked, in the middle of covering up the windows of the truck with money. He had one window completed and another one partially covered.

"Moira?" he corrected, looking up. "Why?"

"Stay calm, but there's a girl here. They just found her."

He felt his heart skip a beat. _No, no, no! Of all days for you to finish work early…_ "Is it Moira?" he asked quietly, praying it wasn't. Let it be someone—anyone—else.

"What's she look like? Can you describe her?"

"Dark… hair… light eyes…" His breathing quickened again. "Wallet… picture… in my wallet…"

Ty bent down, reaching for his wallet. He pulled it out, flipping to the pictures in the middle. He tapped one of Jake standing with a dark-haired woman. "Is that her? Moira?"

Jake nodded. "Yeah…"

"Breathe for me, okay? In and out. Try and relax."

"Is it her?" he repeated. He couldn't calm down until he knew for sure. He had to know. Surely Ty understand that. This is Moira—the woman he loved. If she was in danger…

"I need you to stay calm. Don't try and move. I think it's her—"

"Moira!" he called, trying to sit up. Ty grabbed him, trying to get him to lay back down. "Moira! Moira, run!"

"Jake, you need to lie still. You're not helping anyone if you bleed out, okay?"

Reluctantly, he stopped fighting. "I need to help her… if they hurt her…"

"She's fine right now, okay? They aren't hurting her." Ty turned to grab the first aid kit. "Let me get you bandaged up a bit. Keep the pressure going. We're gonna help her, I promise."

"Okay…" Jake said, his voice trembling. _Stay strong… do this for Moira. She'd want you to get fixed up first… yeah, she'd want that…_

* * *

><p>A few minutes passed before the scout returned. He had a small leather wallet in his good hand. Judging by the battered black leather, it was hers. "There's a black car near the cop's. Found this inside."<p>

Cochrane took the wallet. "Good work, Dobbs. Let's see…who do we have here?"

She tensed. _Please don't look at the pictures…anything but the pictures._

Her name alone wasn't much to go on, or even her ID badge for work and her credit cards. What would give her away was any sign of Jake in her life. If these guys were as jumpy as they all appeared, not to mention armed, seeing evidence that she even knew a cop could get her killed.

He flipped it open, staring at her driver's license. "Moira Donovan…is that Irish?"

"She sure looks it. Black Irish," one of the men commented. "Those light eyes and all."

"Hmm," Cochrane said, flipping through. He paused, his fingers digging into the wallet. "Now, what have we here?"

There was a whistle as he held up a small photo. In it, Moira stood with Jake, who was dressed in uniform. They were smiling at the camera, her arms wrapped around him. It was an older photo, taken soon after Jake joined the force.

"A cop? She knows a cop?" the man called Dobbs asked.

"Look at them… it's not just knowing… she's fucking him. She's with a cop…" another man commented.

Cochrane slowly looked up at her. "Goddamn, it's the cop from earlier. What are the odds, huh? Kid comes in here, gets spooked, shot, and then his pretty lover shows her face around here? I'll be damned."

Moira tried to remain calm. "I don't know what you're talking about."

He waved the picture at her. "I had a conversation with him, sweetheart, so don't be coy with me. I saw his face as clearly as I see yours now. Not that I see why you picked him, but that doesn't really matter…he's as good as dead."

The words hurt, no matter how hard she tried to stay calm. Both of their jobs carried some degree of risk, with Jake's arguable higher than hers, but they'd never exactly discussed what might happen. They didn't talk about the possibility of death.

"Listen, just let us go…we won't tell anyone…"

"Not gonna happen. Not until we get our money."

"We should just kill her," the man with an automatic rifle in his hand suggested, looking very eager to shoot someone. Was he the one who shot Jake?

"No, no. You see, we've got some good leverage right now. Our buddy has a savior complex. He already showed it twice today—and my guess is he knows all about you by now…if your boyfriend was alive long enough to say your name. Which means… he might actually care if we kill you."

Cochrane dragged her over several feet while putting a gun to her head. They faced the truck. "I'm gonna count to three, Ty, then I'll shoot her!" he shouted.

Moira noticed a man peering at them through the armored truck's windows. Well, what wasn't papered over with money anyways. He looked younger, at least a few years younger than most the other men. He also looked worried.

_Please, Jake… if you're still alive… help me…_

* * *

><p>Inside the truck, Jake shot up. A wide swath of bandages wrapped around his abdomen to hold what remained of his blood inside. Now he felt slightly better. Except for hearing snatches of the conversation from outside that made his heart race.<p>

"Moira…I can't…"

"Woah," Ty said, trying to get him to relax. "Racing out there is only gonna get you shot—"

"He's gonna kill her!"

"Listen, he's bluffing. He won't shoot her."

"1…" Cochrane called out.

"I'm not risking it. She's all I've got. Damnit, I've been carrying a ring box for months for her. I love her, man. I won't let anyone hurt her, even if it means I die."

The other man looked down at him. "I'm gonna try and go for help…which means we gotta stall. If I try and trade now…he'll kill her for sure."

"2…" Cochrane shouted.

Jake bit his lip. "Whatever it takes."

"3…"

Ty opened one of the back doors a crack. "Mike, man, let's not do this…not like this. You want the money, right?"

"Of course I want the goddamn money!" snarled the ringleader, his arm wound around Moira's neck. She stayed close to him to avoid choking to death. Her hands weren't visible.

"If you let the girl go, I'll give you the money. A trade."

Cochrane laughed. "Yeah right. And then she runs to her cop friends. I've seen how that movie ends, Ty…I'm not goin' out like that."

"Let her and the cop go. You can have the money. I won't stop you. I won't tell anyone. If you let them live, I'm sure they won't tell either. All the cop wants is to be with her," Ty insisted, his voice steady despite the situation.

"Is that cop dead yet, Ty? Or did you work some magic on him?"

"He needs medical attention. If we let them walk out, he'll make up a story about getting shot while we get out of here. No one has to know, Mike. No one. We can work this out," Ty suggested, keeping the door fairly closed in case Baines decided to start shooting again.

"I'd rather not. Give me the money or I'll let Dobbs, Palmer, and Baines have her."

"You wouldn't..."

* * *

><p>Moira fidgeted, part of her wanting to run to the truck and Jake, and part of her sickened by the so-called bargaining. She didn't care about money or justice—she wanted Jake. If he was alive, she didn't care what did or didn't happen in the warehouse.<p>

The man holding her grabbed at her shirt, roughly pulling it. Buttons popped off as the fabric tore. She couldn't help but cry out, especially not when he thrust her down to the ground.

Strong hands grabbed her upper arms, dragging her a little ways away. The plastic ties kept her hands pinned behind her back. One of the men put pressure on her shoulders, holding her upper body down. Another one fiddled with her belt buckle.

"No! No!" Moria cried, trying to kick the man by her legs. It failed when both her ankles were seized. "No!"

"Mike, this isn't funny," the man in the truck called.

"I think it is. Besides, Baines will make sure her death is quick. Does the cop want to watch? Maybe he could learn a thing or two about pleasing a woman…"

* * *

><p>Each of Moira's cries cut through him, hurting him more than any bullet ever could. He'd sworn to protect her and instead of helping her, he was lying inside an impenetrable truck. Jake Eckehart had never felt like a coward before.<p>

_I don't deserve her…_

His bloody fingers fished out a tiny box from his pocket. Inside was a white gold band with a small diamond chip. He'd borrowed one of her rings in order to size it properly.

_Why did I bother? It's not like she couldn't pick someone else…someone who wasn't a cop, who wouldn't fail to save her… who would always answer the phone…_

"Does the cop want to watch?" one of the men outside taunted, breaking through his thoughts. "Maybe he could learn a thing or two about pleasing a woman…"

Jake gritted his teeth, steeling himself against the pain he knew was coming. His hand closed on his backup weapon, a tiny .22 revolver, much like the one he'd given Moira a few years back, and he pulled himself over to the door.

Ty moved to shut it, but not before he stuck the barrel out. He fired, aiming at blurry figures in blue. One shot after another until the cylinder spun empty.

The gun dropped from his hand, the bullets spent. The door shut, his hand just barely inside.

"Hey, man, look at me…" A hand tapped his cheek. "Jake…Jake… look at me… stay with me… it's not nap time…"

He forced his eyes open. "Moira? Is she hurt?"

The other man looked out the tiny hole in the back windows. "I don't think you got her. You were aiming high—she was low. Look, we need to set up a back-up plan, okay? I need your help, Jake. You with me?"

"Yeah… 'course…"

"Good. We're gonna get your girl back. I promise."

**Author's Notes:**

I'm a few chapters ahead so chapter four will go live tomorrow. Also, I'm extending the story past the original ending and making it more AU than intended. Enjoy!


	4. Chapter Four

**Radio Static**

**Disclaimer:** Nothing belongs to me.

**Chapter Four**

Ty went around to the front of the truck, carefully papering over the windshield. If he could crawl out and reach the roof, he might be able to radio for help. They were running out of time. Part of him wasn't sure he could leave Jake alone.

He also didn't know who was alive outside the truck.

Banging resumed. That meant at least two men were alive. They were working on the hinges. Did that mean that Jake's girl was dead?

He hoped and prayed that wasn't the case. Right now, concern for Moira seemed to keep Jake awake and fighting. If they took that away, it was likely that Jake would stop fighting.

* * *

><p>Moira flinched at each shot.<p>

One of the men holding her down fell, dead beside her. She struggled to break free from the remaining hands, only to be hauled up as a shield. Rat bastards.

Her leg burned, blood dripping down the denim. She'd been shot.

"I got her," Dobbs said. "I got her."

She kicked as he hauled her backwards, dragging her through the dirt.

"I'll deal with her later. Keep her quiet," Cochrane ordered.

Moira fell to the ground a few feet from the front of the armored truck. Dobbs bent down in front of her. "Say anything and he'll shoot you. Just stay calm, okay?"

Plastic chaffed her wrists. She nodded, watching him walk away. As soon as he turned his back, the banging resumed.

After a deep breath, Moira brought her wrists to her butt. The plastic cuffs dug into her skin as she dragged her arms under her butt and thighs. It took some maneuvering to bring her wrists past her wounded leg and around to the front of her ankles.

With her arms cuffed in front of her, Moira breathed again.

Metal hit metal in the background. The others were preoccupied. That was a good thing.

She crawled toward the truck's door. There was tiny slit in the side she could see. She pressed her face up near it. "Jake?" she hissed. "Jake?"

An eye appeared. "You're Moira, aren't you?"

"Yes… is Jake…?"

"He's here. Don't worry."

"The radio…"

"It's not working."

"What can I do?" she asked. "What do you need me to do?"

"Do you have a phone?"

"Yeah."

"You need to go for help. Go up…you can probably get a signal on the roof. Call the police. Be quick and quiet."

Moira nodded. "Tell Jake…"

"He knows," the stranger reassured her. "He knows. Just do this."

"Okay." She moved away from the truck. From her pocket she dug out the cell. She held it up so he could see it before eyeing the stairs.

The banging continued.

Moira ignored the pain in her leg. She could do this. She could get help for Jake. She had to do this. With either her cell or Jake's cruiser. She could drive the cruiser out and get a signal. She could run.

But she wouldn't. Jake needed her. She'd call for help and come back. Maybe she could get in the truck. Yes, she'd get help and get in the truck. She'd stay with Jake.

* * *

><p>"Moira?" Jake called weakly.<p>

Ty moved to the back of the truck. "She's okay. I just talked to her. She's gonna call for help. She's okay, man. I promise."

"Where?"

"The roof. She's going up for a signal. Then she'll be back. There's a hole in the floor…I can help her get in."

"Do it…" Jake said. "I wanna see her."

* * *

><p>The cell screen finally came of 'Out of Service' when she reached the fourth floor. She hurried out on the roof, her phone out. Her leg had gone numb, hardly bothering her.<p>

She dialed 911.

"911, what is your emergency?"

"There's been a shooting. My…husband, Officer Jake Eckehart… he's been shot. We need help immediately… the steel mill… the radio's dead… please, he's an officer… officer down…" Moira heard her voice shaking. She couldn't help it.

"Ma'am, ma'am…"

"We need help! These men are armed… please, we need an ambulance…"

Her phone beeped, the screen flashing 'Out of Service'. Frustrated, she threw the phone.

Moira sank down on the rooftop, her knees by her chest. She found herself crying, tears rolling down her cheeks.

A man approached. The front of his uniform read 'Baines'. He carried a rifle. "Well, well, no wonder Dobbs couldn't find you… what are you doing up here, huh? Calling someone?"

"Having a smoke," she muttered between tears. Her bound hands bumped against the small pistol on her ankle.

He chuckled. "I hope it was worth it. Boss man said it's time."

"Time for what?"

"Time to die."

She saw the rifle. The cold look in his eye. Baines was trigger happy. He didn't care who he killed. He liked guns.

"First… just tell me… did you shoot J—the police officer?"

"I had no choice. He was coming in."

_That's all I needed to know…_

Her right hand closed on her gun, pulling it free. She flipped off the safety and pulled the trigger. She aimed for center mass, just like Jake taught her. The gun kicked in her hand, powder coating her hands and the air.

The sound hurt her ears. She saw Baines falter.

She pulled the trigger again. Another hole appeared in his chest.

He slumped down. Moira stood up on shaking legs, aiming down at him. A third shot, this one aimed at his head.

Blood and brain coated the rooftop. She knew she was wearing his blood. Strangely, she couldn't find it in herself to care. This man shot Jake. He deserved to die.

Moira dropped the gun, no longer needing it. Baines wasn't going to hurt anyone else. She'd made sure of that. She didn't need the gun. Not anymore. What she needed was to see Jake. She needed to be with him.

She hurried down the stairs. The banging had stopped. She didn't notice. Didn't care.

When she reached the end of the metal stairs, strong arms grabbed her. She screamed involuntarily.

"You are starting to get on my nerves!" Cochrane hissed. "I might just shoot you for the heck of it!"

At that moment, the other armored truck pulled in.

"About damn time. What took so long? We're supposed to check in fifteen minutes!" Cochrane yelled as the oldest memory of the crew stepped out of the driver's seat.

"It took a bit longer than I thought…" he answered.

Dobbs helped him open the back of the truck. They pulled out another person together, a young person, with a bag over their head.

The bag was yanked off, revealing a teenage boy.

"Get outta the truck, Ty! This is your last chance!" Cochrane ordered.

The older man held the boy. Dobbs took Moira from their leader, holding her still. Cochrane stood between them with a gun in his grip.

The truck's doors opened all the way, revealing the mysterious Ty and Jake, who lay by the door, clutching his stomach.

**Author's Notes:**

Chapter five will be up soon. Enjoy!


	5. Chapter Five

**Radio Static**

**Disclaimer:** Don't own anything except Moira.

**Chapter Five**

"What's happening?" Eckehart asked, still lying on the cold floor of the truck. It felt like hours since Moira's voice hit his ears, since Ty promised she would be back in a moment; that she was just calling for help.

"Palmer's dead. But Baines… Baines went up to the roof. I'm sorry…man, I'm so sorry…"

"Who's Baines?"

"He shot you. He's gone after Moira."

"No, God, no…"

He strained to sit up. This wasn't happening. This had to be a really vivid nightmare. Moira couldn't be dead. Not his Moira.

Jake felt the ring in his pocket. Moira's ring.

Gunshots echoed in the mill, bouncing off the metal. One. Two. Three. Each one caused him to flinch. He might as well have been shot.

"Moira!" he shouted, his voice filled with anguish and pain.

"Jake, stay with me. Hey, don't close your eyes…"

He looked at the armored car guard. "Moira… he killed Moira…"

"Don't give up. We're gonna get out of this…"

"No… Moira… Moira…"

"She might be okay… don't give up just yet."

He sat there in silence, feeling his strength wane. Why bother fighting? His parents were dead. He was alone except for Moira. Moira was the love of his life—the glue that kept him together. He kept fighting for her sake.

She was gone now. Dead just by trying to help him. Dead because she wanted to see him at lunch—because she cared about him.

This was his fault. It was on him.

* * *

><p>A few minutes passed in uncomfortable silence before Cochrane called for Ty again. He peeked through the money. "Don't you hurt him!" Ty shouted.<p>

Jake looked up. "What?"

"My kid brother… they've got him. They have Jimmy…"

"What are you gonna do?"

"Give them the money," Ty said, moving about the truck. "I'd just… stay away from the truck…stay down."

"Fine…just help him…"

* * *

><p>Moira was tossed by Dobbs after the doors opened. Cochrane went right to the doors and hauled Ty out. Dobbs and Quinn followed, chucking Jake in the dirt. As the men climbed into the truck, Moira crawled for Jake.<p>

She reached his side, looking down at him. "Jake… Jake…"

He looked up at her through unfocused brown eyes. "Moira… you're an angel…"

"Jake, no… I'm here. I'm here…" She grabbed his hand and put it on her cheek. "It's me, Jake…"

"I loved you so much…"

"Jake… I'm here. Look at me…"

There was a very loud pop. Smoke filled the room along with the smell of burning flesh. She knew that smell all too well from years of working in the clinic. She'd worked with some burn victims before. Someone was burning. She could only hope it was Cochrane.

"Listen, Moira…" Ty was beside her. He cut her hands free with a pocket knife. "Stay here with Jake and my brother… I'm going to go for help."

"Go…" she said. As if she would even consider leaving Jake in his condition.

She turned back to Jake. He was covered in blood, his own blood, and his skin was pale. She stripped out of her ruined shirt and tried to wipe the blood off his face with it. "Jake, please… it's me…"

His hand brushed her hair from her eyes. "Moira…"

"Hey, can you hang in there for me? Help's coming…"

"The shots…"

"Remember the .22? I grabbed it from the glove box."

"You're not dead," Jake breathed. "You're here. You're here…"

She grinned at him. "Of course I'm here. I'd never leave you."

"I thought you were gone… the gunshots…"

Moira leaned forward, giving him a kiss. "I'm here, I'm alive…"

His hand grabbed hers, forcing a small object into her palm. She frowned, looking at Jake. "What's this—"

"You!" Cochrane hissed, grabbing her by the hair. He pulled her up from the ground and away from Jake. "You little meddling bitch! You blew up my money!"

She cried out, several strands of thick hair pulled loose by the roots.

Ty's brother appeared from around a pole. "Uncle Mike, what's going on?"

"Stay outta this, Jimmy!" Cochrane snarled. "She's coming with me. You're gonna fix this… You're gonna get me my money… my friends are dead because of you and your meddling fuck buddy."

"Ah!"

He forced her toward a truck, a gun barrel pressed against her spine. "Get in and shut up."

Moira climbed into the back of the armored truck closest to the tunnel—the one not covered in Jake's blood. Cochrane climbed in after her and closed the doors. He tore off parts of her tank top and the blood-stained blouse in her hands. He tied her wrists and ankles before shoving a gag made of dirty fabric into her mouth.

He moved to the wheel, leaving her in the back of the truck.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, Ty hopped into the radio car outside. Sure enough the dash radio was full of static. He started the car's engine, then put the transmission in reverse. He held onto the radio, driving toward the main road. He tried it every few feet.<p>

He pulled out of the steel mill and turned south.

As the static cleared, he called, "Officer down… we have an officer down! Requesting immediate back-up at—"

The entire car shook as it was hit from behind.

He glanced out the window, seeing Cochrane behind the wheel of one of the trucks. "Shit."

Ty bailed out of the crippled car, climbing out the passenger window. He bolted, heading for inside the warehouse. "Jimmy! Moira?" he shouted.

"In here!" his brother called in response.

Jimmy sat beside the injured cop. Jake appeared to be in distress and it wasn't just from the blood loss. Ty looked to his brother. "Where's Moira? Is she…?"

"Uncle Mike took her."

"But the fire…"

"He's burned. Ty, what's goin' on?"

Ty paced in a circle. The armored truck hadn't followed him in. He wasn't sure if that was good news or bad news. "Uncle Mike decided to rob the truck. It got outta hand. I tried to stop him. They killed a guy. Jake here was next.

"I blew up most of the money as a distraction to help Jake. Neither of us knew his girlfriend was looking for him. She stumbled in here—the one with the dark hair. Mike had Dobbs keep an eye on her. She escaped and called for help."

"So, why'd he take her?"

"Money," Jake coughed. "He said he was gonna get money."

"How?" Jimmy asked, voicing Ty's question.

"I don't… we're not… we're not rich…"

"Save your breath," Ty cautioned, sitting beside Jake. He checked the wound. Being thrown from the truck caused the wound to soak the bandage with more blood.

"No…" The cop looked him dead in the eye. "Moira… my fault…"

"I doubt she thinks that."

"I failed her…"

Ty sighed. In the distance he could hear sirens. Help was coming. Moira's call must have worked.

"Rest. We're gonna get outta this and we'll find her. We'll find her."

**Author's Notes:**

There were two different directions I considered for this story. I decided to depart from the movie storyline a bit and extend it over several days.

Anyways, please review! I do accept anonymous reviews and I usually respond to each review before posting a new chapter (anonymous reviewers get responded to at the bottom of the chapter). Reviews inspire me to get my fingers typing.


	6. Chapter Six

**Radio Static**

**Disclaimer:** Don't own anything.

**Chapter Six**

The armored truck rolled down the highway. Moira shifted with the motion of the truck as Cochrane drove. He played with the radio, his voice raised as he repeated a series of codes into the handheld.

"We got jacked, Ashcroft…" he reported.

"Come in to base, Truck 17."

"Can't… truck's crippled. We're all turned around. Baines is dead. So's Dobbs and Palmer. They shot 'em all…"

"Who?" a voice on the other end demanded.

"Ty. He turned on us. Hijacked the truck with three friends. One of 'em's a cop. Or at least he had a uniform and a car. Baines shot him. I think he's still alive."

"Who else was there?"

"Um, the cop had two partners. One's Ty's kid brother, Jimmy. The other's some girl. She took off with a lot of the money."

"Cochrane, I need you to come in," his boss insisted.

"Can't… Ty's trying to blame me. He shot me…"

"We can sort this—"

He shot the radio, killing it. "I'll sort it," Cochrane snarled, tucking the gun into his waistband. He turned to look at her.

Moira tried to roll toward the back.

"Time to go. Scream or run and I'll shoot you. Don't push me."

He undid her bounds.

She spat out the gag. "I don't have any money…"

"I don't care. You're still gonna get it for me."

"How?"

He narrowed his eyes. "You're gonna do exactly what I say. Or I'll dump you in a ditch. Got it?"

Moira nodded, her fingers curled around the object in her palm. She slipped it into her pocket, worried she might lose it. It felt smooth, like a circle. Not a coin or a knife. A ring maybe? Why?

Maybe it was some sort of tracking device.

"Good. Let's go."

* * *

><p>Given the mess in the warehouse, Jake wasn't too surprised that he was handcuffed to the stretcher. In a way it was standard procedure. The crime scene techs would have a mess to sort through to corroborate their story.<p>

Officer-involved shootings were always messy. Even Ty and his brother were escorted in cuffs to the hospital to be checked over.

None of it bothered him. He'd rather be under guard in the hospital than at home alone. Jake just wished the cops at the scene had found Moira, or even a trace of her, aside from her abandoned car.

She was the only thing that mattered right now. The hospital staff had given him several blood transfusions, fluids, and stitched up the nasty gash in his side. Most of the pellets from the gun were recovered as well.

He didn't care about his condition. He didn't care if he died. He just wanted to find Moira. He'd gladly die for her. As it was, he would be on medical leave for several weeks, then suspension during the investigation, and even then, there was no guarantee he'd be back at his job. He could be benched or fired.

But Jake had other things to concern himself with aside from his job. He needed to get out of this hospital and track Moira. Her cell phone was most likely gone and her credit cards were probably in the car.

Digital tracking was out. He would have to track her down the old-fashioned way by looking and asking questions. He had plenty of pictures back at their place he could show around.

Jake worried what the other man planned to do to his girlfriend. There was a wild look in his eyes when he snatched her. He seemed unhinged. Mike Cochrane wanted money. But how did he expect Moira to get money?

Several heartbreaking images filled his mind. Moira sold into white slavery. Moira forced into prostitution with Cochrane as her pimp. Moira as a drug mule. Moira beaten and dead. Moira as some sort of plaything for a rich sadist. Each one ended with her in pain or dead.

None of them explained why Cochrane snatched her.

* * *

><p>Cochrane set the truck on fire, leaving it to burn, as they continued on foot for several blocks. He pulled her into a yard and broke into a house.<p>

Once they were inside, he aimed the gun at her. "Strip. Now."

Moira shook her head. "No."

"Do it or I'll do it for you."

"No!"

He flicked off the safety. "I'm not asking—I'm telling you. Strip down now!"

Slowly, Moira pulled off her ruined and torn tank top. She fumbled with the zip and button on her jeans after kicking off her boots. Cochrane tapped his foot.

She slipped her hand into her pocket, retrieving Jake's gift, as she slipped off the pants. She kept it in her palm with her fist clenched.

Left just in her underwear, Moira stood there. Nothing fancy or flashy today—just plain cotton panties in some floral pattern and a black bra—only practical.

"Good, now let's find you some clothes."

He pulled her down the hallway to a bedroom and started rifling through drawers and the closets. Nothing was too nice—they weren't exactly in a fancy section of town—but at least it wasn't covered in blood.

Cochrane tossed her a too-small tank top that squished her breasts together. She didn't care—it covered skin.

A leatherette miniskirt joined the pile which was thankfully loose on her slender hips. It dipped a bit lower than she'd have liked and the hem wasn't too much longer than the curve of her butt.

"These too," he ordered, throwing some spiked heels at her. They looked like torture devices given the five-inch heel and dubious straps. They weren't even her size.

Moira peeled off her socks when he aimed the gun at her again. She positioned the too-large shoe on her foot and tied the straps around her ankles tightly and up her calves. She knotted the strings mid-calf.

"Better," he appraised, handing her a jacket. It was too small as well but covered her back between the tank and the skirt. She couldn't button it without ripping the fabric.

When she turned back around, he'd lost his uniform in exchange for loose jeans and a sweatshirt.

"Why do you get to look comfortable?" she grimaced.

"Because I'm not about to earn us money."

**Author's Notes:**

I'm feeling generous today, so I'll do a double-post—one early today and one in a few hours. The story should be no longer than 10 chapters. I'm working on the ending today. Whole story should be up by June 20th.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Radio Static**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything. Seriously.

**Chapter Seven**

The first stop was a little gas station in their stolen car. She went inside the attached shop, wobbling on the borrowed heels, and flirted with the pimply-faced cashier. He kept his eyes fixed on her breasts even after Cochrane joined them—a new car secured most likely—and put the gun to her head.

"Give me all the money!" he screamed.

The nervous cashier hurried to empty the drawer as she struggled in Cochrane's grip. He stuffed the money in his pockets with one hand, his other arm around her neck.

"You try to follow me and I'll kill her…"

The cashier nodded, sinking below the counter. Coward.

Moira had no choice but to scramble out the door with Cochrane, who kept the gun on her in case she got any ideas.

"You got your money," she huffed a few minutes later as they cruised down the highway.

He laughed. "Not even close. I'm still several million short."

"Million? Million? Not thousands?" she repeated.

"Several million."

"I hate to break it to you, but robbing gas stations isn't gonna get you several million. Not in a hundred years."

Cochrane glared at her. "I'm not stupid or simple. Your job is to get me all the money I need. You'll get it how I say to get it. This was trial run to see if you'd run or try and call for help. Remember, I'm not far behind you wherever you go—and I will shoot you."

"Then do it."

Moira wrapped her hand around the barrel of the gun. She held it up to her chest, roughly near her heart. "Shoot me. Go for it. I won't stop you."

He jerked the gun loose and whacked her upside the side of her head with the pistol. Her cheek throbbed as blood rushed to the surface. She'd have one hell of a shiner in the morning, judging by the pain near her eye socket.

"Not yet, you stupid bitch. I want my money first."

"I'm not a thief."

"Neither am I, sweetheart. I'm not the villain you think I am."

She looked away from him, turning her attention to the small object she'd been clutching since being forced to strip down. She didn't want to lose whatever it was Jake forced into her hand.

Moira uncurled her hand, glancing down. A tiny stone caught the light. It was an engagement ring. A tiny diamond in a white gold band. It must have cost Jake an arm and a leg.

Curious, she slipped the ring onto her left hand. It fit snuggly on her ring finger.

_Jake… it's beautiful. I wish you could have put it there…_

She turned the ring around, putting the diamond facing inside her hand. From the back it looked like a plain wedding band. Surely Cochrane wouldn't take it from her if he happened to only see the white gold flash, not the diamond chip.

"You're awfully quiet over there," he said. "You thinking about jumping out the car? Let me tell you something—given the rate of speed and your bare skin… I wouldn't. Road rash is a hell of a way to go…"

"Says the ass who left my husband to bleed to death."

Cochrane laughed, a low chuckle of sorts. "You're still holding that against me? Wow."

"It's not funny. Jake's a good man. He doesn't deserve this."

"Then he shouldn't have interfered."

* * *

><p>Ashcroft sat across a table from a bloody Ty.<p>

"Who's idea was it to jack the truck?"

"I don't know," Ty said, his voice soft and his manner subdued.

"Where's the money?"

"Gone."

"Who has it, Ty? If you cooperate, perhaps they'll go easier on you. Think about your brother…" Ashcroft pushed.

"I am. That's why I helped. We were going to lose our house."

The older guard nodded. "I understand that puts a lot of pressure on you. I know you asked for extra shifts as well. But there are other ways, Ty."

"I didn't want to do it. It got out of hand…"

"I know. Why did you kill them?"

"Me?" Ty looked confused. "I didn't shoot anyone."

"I didn't say they were shot."

The two men stared at each other for a moment. Ty broke the silence after a deep sigh. "I didn't shoot them. Baines and Mike shot the homeless guy. Eckehart, the cop, was shot by Baines. I saved him."

"What about Palmer? Dobbs? Quinn? Why did you turn on your team?"

"They turned on me," he said in disbelief. "I didn't shoot them. Eckehart fired a small handgun through the doors blindly. I think he killed Palmer. Dobbs and Quinn burned up in the truck along with the cash."

"And Baines?"

Ty shook his head. "I don't know. I was in the truck. Eckehart and I heard several shots. We assumed Baines killed the girl."

Ashcroft pushed a picture across the table. "This girl?"

"Yeah… Moira. Jake called her Moira. She's his girlfriend or something. I'm not really sure."

"What was she doing there? Huh?"

Ty shook his head. "No idea. Jake wasn't exactly coherent. He kept saying it was his fault."

"What was his fault?"

"Moira. She was injured. Then Cochrane took her."

"Did you see her go with Cochrane?"

Ty shook his head again. "No, I was trying to radio for help. I didn't see what happened."

"So for all you know, Moira could have willingly gone with Cochrane. She, Eckehart, and Cochrane might have been working together with Baines."

"I don't know."

"Or maybe they were working with you? And your brother?"

"I didn't want anyone to get hurt…"

Ashcroft stood up, looking a bit disgusted. "It's too late for that. Five good men are in the morgue because of you. It doesn't look good for you. Cochrane called in—said you hijacked the trucks. It's his word against yours right now."

"I didn't do this! I tried to stop them!"

"Tell it to the judge."

**Author's Notes:**

Two in one day! I'm polishing off the ending of the story so there will be a chapter a day posted until the end. Enjoy and please review!


	8. Chapter Eight

**Radio Static**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.

**Chapter Eight**

Night and day past in a blurry haze of bodies, questions, and medication for Jake Eckehart. He had no time alone except for when he was asleep, and even then the drugs fogged his mind.

Two days had passed since he'd been shot. Two days since Moira disappeared.

From what he'd overheard, the police were looking for Moira as a suspect. They thought she was part of the heist. That she killed several men in order to increase her share of the profits. Apparently her student loans were past due and her car was in line for repossession.

It all sounded outrageous to him. Moira wasn't this person. Okay, so what if money was tight? It wasn't like she'd knock off a bank. She wouldn't shoot people for kicks.

Though the evidence seemed against her, since she'd shown up at the scene without reason and also since he'd been there.

The police thought he'd been shot in order to play hero and further confuse the investigation. They thought he, Moira, Ty and the kid were working together. Various people went back and forth on Cochrane's role in the heist. Sometimes he was innocent, other times it was Moira's fault, and sometimes he was part of the crime.

What they did know was that Moira and Cochrane were both MIA. The other armored truck was found abandoned and torched.

Jake didn't like that. He didn't like any of it. He could see the look of terror in Moira's eyes as she was pulled away from him.

He was getting out of this hospital one way or another. He needed to find her.

* * *

><p>The small string of robberies continued for Moira and Cochrane. She was the bait and hobbled by her shoes, she couldn't exactly run off and get help. Who would she call anyways? Jake was her only family out this way. Her parents were long-divorced, with her mother dying of cancer when she was in college, and her father moving far, far away with his new wife. Her other relatives weren't close and she didn't want to drag her co-workers into this mess.<p>

Running was out. Calling for help was out.

Luckily for Moira, the pain in her feet from the ill-fitting heels outweighed the pain in her leg from being shot. It was only a graze and it continued to bleed. Cochrane hadn't noticed yet. It was scabbing over pretty well by that night.

In a cheap motel room, one that rented by the hour, Moira got a chance to slip off the dreaded heels. She also got a chance to shower in the tiny stall.

Wrapped in a scratchy towel, wearing only her underwear, she retreated to the bed. Cochrane grabbed her hands immediately and tied them together and then to the post of the bed. Before she could protest, he gagged her with a ripped sheet.

He slept on the bed beside her, the loaded gun just barely out of his reach on a nightstand.

Moira curled up and tried to sleep. Tears filled her eyes as she drifted off into a sea of nightmares.

* * *

><p>The painkillers floating through his bloodstream would keep the wound bearable as long as he didn't pull on the stitches too much and start bleeding again. He could get around for a few hours before the pain caught up.<p>

Jake studied the handcuff keeping him attached to the bed. Standard police issue, stainless steel. Unfortunately, they weren't exactly taught how to escape cuffs at the police academy. Since it was only one wrist he stood a better chance of escaping.

He just needed to do it without a lot of noise.

Someone had left a pair of wire cutters near his bedside. The links in the chain were probably twice as thick as average wire, but they might help.

Jake scooted to the far end of the bed and stretched his leg out. He grabbed for the tool with his toes. He curled them up and under his foot, trying to hold the clippers until he reached his hand.

Just as they started to slip from his toes, he caught the cutters in his free hand.

He took a deep breath and looked at the cutters and the links.

He thought of Moira during their college years. She had one of those big hole punchers that did two or three sheets of paper with hardly more than a casual flick of the hand. Moira always stuffed the puncher full of sheets—probably well over the maximum intended for that product—and still got it to punch.

She used leverage. Her hand wasn't powerful enough on its own. She used her body weight. One hand over the other, she lowered the hole puncher to a surface about arm's length down. She stood up and pressed down, locking her elbows.

He needed to do the same with the wire cutters.

Jake picked a spot on the middle link, where the solder line was visible. He lined the cutter up with the mark. He used his wrist to keep the cutter handle in place as he shifted in the bed.

On his knees, he put his upper body weight on the handles of the cutter and compressed.

* * *

><p>In the early hours of the morning, Moira awoke to find Cochrane straddling her. Immediately, she started to panic. Her hips bucked to unseat him as she twisted.<p>

He struck her across the face once more. She screamed into the gag.

Whitish linen covered her face. She screamed and fought more, her bond hands restricting her movement. The material clung to her nose, making it hard to breathe. Impossible actually given the pressure.

Moira continued to struggle as the oxygen fled her body in a rush, leaving her breathless. Her head spun and she collapsed into darkness.

**Author's Notes:**

Next chapter will be up tomorrow.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Radio Static**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.

**Chapter Nine**

It took several tries for the cutter to get through the link. But, much to Jake's surprise, the wire cutter freed him.

Now for the next step—clothes.

A quick rummage under the bed and in the tiny closet revealed a packet of scrubs. He didn't think twice before ripping open the package and pulling on the pants. The top proved to be harder, given the stitches in his side and the IV port in his hand.

Jake unplugged the other monitors quickly. As they started to beep, he ripped off the tape holding the IV in. Carefully he slipped the port out and tugged the scrub top over his head.

He snagged a cloth mask kept around for patients with flu symptoms—thank you, Swine Flu—and covered his mouth. He looked like an average hospital worker—once he cut off the bracelet.

Jake slipped out in his ridiculous slipper socks and pretended he was supposed to be out and about. He turned away from the guard and headed down a corridor.

He didn't run through the hospital. He moved slowly and deliberately out to the main entrance, where he hailed a cab back toward his apartment. The driver didn't seem to care he was shoeless and wearing scrubs.

He gave his address and sunk down into the cab's seat to lie across the back. His side was beginning to hurt and it felt wet, as if it might be bleeding again, through the bandage and scrubs.

_Almost home… almost. Then… phase two._

* * *

><p>Moira opened her eyes.<p>

The room was dim, the lights burned out or turned down low. Certainly not what she expected from death—in either Heaven or Hell—at all. Even it even stank.

She sat up slowly and a sheet slipped off her. _Huh, that's weird…_

Her wrists were chaffed and red, her leg throbbed, and she was only wearing her underwear. Just like when she died. If she died. She really didn't want to wear underwear for the rest of her life.

"Oh good, you're up."

She turned her head to see Cochrane. Yup, this had to be Hell. Here was the king of the devils himself.

"You killed me."

"No, I just waited for you to pass out. Not that I didn't contemplate smothering you all the way…"

"Trust me, the feeling's mutual."

They glared at each other for a moment.

"Now, I got you some new clothes. Get changed. We have work to do."

"What kind of work?" Moira asked.

"The kind that pays millions. I've got bills to pay and so do you."

"What?"

He frowned. "You do know that I'm going to give you some for your time. Use it for a trip, buy a nice dress—I don't care."

"Why would you give me any money?"

Cochrane sighed. "For all the trouble. Okay? Also, if I pay you, you have to swear not to go to the cops. Our little secret. If anyone asks, you were there to steal the money."

"Why would I agree to that?"

"Because if you don't, something bad will happen to your cop… if he's still alive. If not, it'll happen to you."

* * *

><p>Jake lifted up the scrub top, wincing. Yep, sure enough he'd started bleeding again. He probably tore a stitch or two escaping.<p>

He undid the bandage and surveyed the damage.

His skin was puckered together, tossed into a crooked line by pieces of metal. There was no doubt in his mind he'd have a nasty scar later. He could see at least seven different sets of stitches on his side.

Feeling a bit like a modern-day Frankenstein, Jake cleaned the wound with water and wrapped his side back up in gauze he found under the sink. He would have to buy a better first aid kit when this was all over.

As he changed clothes, he turned on a radio scanner. It crackled with static as he tuned it to the frequency used by the police. He could only hope Moira was making herself known in some way.

Static came between transmissions. Radio calls were frequent, but nothing unusual.

There was a call that caught his interest.

"All units BOLO for Jake Eckehart, white male, 30, average height, wounded in the side. He's wanted for questioning in an ongoing investigation. Also BOLO in effect for Mike Cochrane, white male, late 30s, average height and weight, last seen in a blue uniform. He's also wanted for questioning and might be armed. The third is Moira Donovan, white female, 28, petite frame around 5 foot five, long dark hair. She is armed and should be considered dangerous."

_Armed? Dangerous? This is Moira!_

The details of the BOLO continued, but he ignored it. He had other things to worry about.

Jake tucked his back-up piece, an old .45 caliber handgun, into the waistband of his jeans. His untucked shirt tail covered it. It felt good to wear shoes again.

"Hang in there, Moira. I'll find you."

With the radio scanner in one hand and car keys in the other, Jake left the apartment.

* * *

><p>Ashcroft sat across from Ty. "The cop's gone."<p>

"He's dead?"

"No, he's disappeared from the hospital. Do you have any idea where he might have gone?"

Ty nodded. "To find Moira. If he's gone, he's looking for her. Even when he was lying there, dying, she's all he cared about. He must've said her name a hundred times."

"The woman who called 9-1-1… was that Moira?"

"Yeah." He leaned forward and rested his hands on the table. "She came to the side of the truck, calling for Jake. She said she had a cell phone. I told her to go to the roof for a signal. She agreed and swore she'd be right back for Jake."

Ashcroft pulled out a tape recorder. "So you can confirm who this is?"

The tape clicked on.

_"911, what is your emergency?"_

_ "There's been a shooting. My…husband, Officer Jake Eckehart… he's been shot. We need help immediately… the steel mill… the radio's dead… please, he's an officer… officer down…" _

_ "Ma'am, ma'am…"_

_ "We need help! These men are armed… please, we need an ambulance…"_

The tape clicked off. "That's Moira," Ty said.

"Good to know. Now, is there anything else you want to tell me? Do you know where they might have gone?"

"Sorry, I don't. I haven't a clue."

**Author's Notes:**

I don't know if wire cutters really can cut through handcuff links, but it seemed like an interesting possibility. Only one more chapter to go!


	10. Chapter Ten

**Radio Static**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.

**Chapter Ten**

Moira tugged at the hem of the ill-fitting dress Mike forced her to put on. Much like yesterday's clothing, it ended just past her butt, was tight in the chest, and this one was skintight. To add insult to injury, it required lacing an attached corset around her waist.

Mike tied it so tight she could barely breathe.

She had to tie on the shoes from yesterday, wincing at the blisters on her feet. Not only couldn't she breathe, she couldn't run. To cover her arms she had yesterday's jacket.

"C'mon. We're late," Mike hissed, dragging her to a different car.

* * *

><p>"Silent alarm triggered at First National Bank over on Locard St. Requesting immediate assistance," came over the radio.<p>

Jake hit the gas and flipped on his turn signal. He was two blocks out.

A bank heist could bring big money. Was this what Cochrane needed Moira for? Could he be that lucky?

* * *

><p>She stood in line at the bank counter, holding a few deposit slips with nonsense written on them. There was also a stack of crumpled ones in her hands. All part of her cover.<p>

Before she could be summoned to the counter, the doors banged open.

Mike walked in, a hat over his hooded sweatshirt, and sunglasses covering his eyes. He looked scary, especially with his ratty beard and clothes. He raised the gun in the air and fired.

Several customers screamed and ducked.

Moira froze, teetering in her heels.

Cochrane went right to her and pressed the gun to her head. She cried out as the hot barrel touched her skin. "Give me all the money!" he snarled at the tellers. "Nothing funny! Just money or I'll kill her."

She struggled to break lose. His arm around her throat was choking her.

The handful of tellers struggled to fulfill his order.

"Empty the safe too! Don't be cheap!"

Tears flowed down Moira's cheeks in a mixture of frustration and fear. If there was enough money… there was a good chance Cochrane might kill her. He never said he'd let her go alive—at least, he never promised that.

* * *

><p>Jake threw the car into Park haphazardly at the curb. He didn't bother to turn off the engine before darting inside the bank. Surprisingly, the door still worked.<p>

"Stop or I'll shoot!" a male voice hissed.

He raised his hands, glad he'd left the gun under his shirt. "Hey man, I don't want any trouble…"

The robber turned slowly, a young woman in his grasp. She looked like hell in her cheap, too-small clothes. A hooker or a stripper most likely. Then he looked at her face.

"Moira…" he breathed.

* * *

><p>"Hero boy must have a death wish, huh?" Cochrane sneered into her ear. "The cops are going to love this, darling."<p>

"Love wha—ahh!"

The shot echoed in the bank's open lobby. The bullet pierced Moira's leg, blood flowing freely. "Hurry up with my money!" Mike ordered.

"Let her go," Jake called, a gun in his hands. He stood with both hands holding the handgun. "Let her go now and I might not kill you."

Cochrane laughed, holding Moira by her throat. "You don't have the guts. Besides, you'll hit her."

A bag of money hit the floor by Cochrane. He grinned. "Ooops, time to go. Later, Jake…"

He nudged Moira to pick up the cash. Whimpering, she grabbed a strap. Mike smirked, dragging her across the floor, blood trailing behind her. He kept her head near his own, making her a shield.

"If anyone tries to follow us, I'll put the next one in her skull."

Jake stood in front of the door. "I won't let you do this."

"You don't have a choice."

* * *

><p>Jake looked into Moira's eyes. They were tear-filled and scared. He couldn't blame her. He was terrified for her sake. <em>I won't let him hurt you…<em>

The police wouldn't make it in time. And if Cochrane made it out those doors, he doubted he'd find Moira alive. Cochrane would kill her just to spite him.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, looking right at her.

Her eyes closed and her head tilted slightly, like a nod.

"Time's up, buddy boy," Mike said. "Move. Now."

The gun caressed her head.

"Just… let her talk, please?" Jake asked. "Say good-bye?"

Cochrane rolled his eyes and loosened his death grip on her neck. She gasped, taking in a deep swallow of air.

"Jake…" she said, hoarse.

"I know. I love you so much. No matter what."

"Me too… I love you…"

"I'm going be sick," Mike swore, moving to tighten his grip.

"Moira, love, duck!"

As he shouted, his girlfriend elbowed Cochrane hard and dove for the ground. While Cochrane went to readjust, reeling from the sudden loss of her, Jake pulled the trigger. A bullet ripped through Cochrane's chest.

The other man hit the floor, his eyes open in shock.

Sirens screamed down the street. The police were coming.

Jake set his gun down on the little counter filled with slips. He got down on the floor and scooted over to Moira.

She lifted her head. "Jake…"

He pulled her toward him, trying to put pressure on her leg wound. "I'm here. I'm here…"

"I knew you'd find me…"

"I'm right here, Moira. I'm not leaving you."

She kissed him. Her bloody hand touched his hair and cheek. He didn't seem to notice the blood as he cradled her.

"Marry me…" she whispered.

"That's supposed to be my line," he joked.

"Tough."

* * *

><p><em>Six Months Later<em>

Following an intensive investigation, Ty and Jimmy were cleared of any wrong-doing in the heist and the resulting crime spree. Eagle Shield agreed to keep him on and he received a sizable reward for helping—and for wrongful imprisonment.

Likewise, Jake was cleared. The death of Palmer and Cochrane were deemed to be self-defense and protecting others. All the charges were dropped and he ended up respected by his co-workers for single-handed foiling a bank robbery, despite being without a badge and wounded.

Moira was harder to clear, given the evidence and string of crimes that followed the heist. Close looks at the evidence and surveillance tapes proved that she'd acted under duress and in fear for her life. The charges were eventually dropped.

After several weeks in the hospital and intensive therapy, Moira was discharged.

Now she stood at the end of a short carpet in a white gown. At the other end stood Jake in his dress uniform, grinned crookedly at her.

It took all of her self-control to not run to him.

He took her hand, squeezing it tightly. She squeezed back as they faced the preacher and recited vows.

"I now pronounce you—"

Moira threw her arms around Jake's neck. His arms went around her waist.

"—husband and wife."

Lips pressed together, tongues darting in between, with neither one stopping for air.

"You may continue kissing the bride," the preacher said. "I'm happy to introduce Mr. and Mrs. Jake Eckehart."

Neither one seemed to notice the flashbulbs. None of that mattered. They had each other. They were alive and still together. No amount of money could change that. No amount of publicity would sway them.

"Now what?" Jake asked, panting.

With a devilish grin, Moira whispered in his ear. He listened, trying to remain composed. When she finished, he scooped her up in his arms. "Thanks for coming, but we gotta go!"

The small crowd laughed as the pair disappeared, off to start their honeymoon early.

**Author's Notes:**

Well, I hope you all enjoyed this short story. Thanks for reading and if you have time, leave a quick review. Anonymous reviews are accepted!

Locard St is a shoutout to my homeboy Locard! Okay, okay, forensics joke… Locard developed the exchange priniciple—when two objects come in contact, something is taken and something is left behind. Hey, I was studying for a midterm as I wrote this.


End file.
